


Rager teenager!

by thismighthurt



Category: VERIVERY (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Graffiti, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vandalism, cop!Dongheon, i love hwanwoong i promise, multiple (innocuous) mentions of dicks, title is troye sivan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thismighthurt/pseuds/thismighthurt
Summary: It takes a failed hook-up and a near arrest for Yongseung to realize that love smells a lot like spray paint.
Relationships: Hong Minchan/Kim Yongseung
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Rager teenager!

**Author's Note:**

> if you're here after the baeheon, this is different
> 
> again the biggest thank you to jae for beta reading this, and for getting it going again when my caveman brain stalled. lmao thank u, jae!

“I don’t know,” said Yongseung. "It lacks depth, for me."

His voice echoed off the walls of the tunnel, louder than he’d thought it would be. It reverberated between him and Minchan and made Yongseung shift his weight uncomfortably. The pebble he sent skittering into the drain was just as loud as the hum of the electric lights and the distant blare of traffic overhead.

All of it was still frustratingly quiet, though, compared to the thoughts in his head.

"I drew a dick on a wall, Yongseung," Minchan finally responded. The look he shot Yongseung over his shoulder was all heavy-lidded eyes and dark brows. The rest of him was tucked away under his hood and face mask. "Am I Rembrandt? Or one of the Ninja Turtle guys?"

“Your _other_ pieces have a stronger political thrust.”

“Well, I guess you’re not usually here for this part,” Minchan ceded. He gave his spray can a couple of shakes. “We usually just paint over it.”

There was a beat of silence between them, then, in the walkthrough underpass that Hong Minchan was vandalizing on a hot August night. The can of paint in his hands was the same, undeniable shade of blue as the dick painted fresh on the tiled wall, and Yongseung—heat haggard, tired, and frustratingly sober for someone who’d just walked out of the biggest frat party of the year—looked the spray paint dick right in the eye as he considered what Minchan had just said.

“‘ _Usually_.’” Then Yongseung pointed at one of the murals on the wall. “So, you mean, this one…?”

“Was also once a dick,” Minchan declared. “So was that one. And that one. And tha-aaat one, over there.”

Yongseung sucked in a breath through his teeth, and it tasted like spray paint. “That’s a lot of dicks.”

“And there could be more,” said Minchan, eyes sly.

That was how Yongseung ended up spray painting a penis onto the grimy tiled walls of an underpass, letting the soundtrack of Minchan’s cheering start to drive away the ache that came from deep in his chest. His splotchy strokes—it had to be that aerosol was harder than he imagined, because the design of a school-desk style dick didn’t seem like something even Yongseung could be fucking up—

“Oops.” Minchan stepped in, one hand firm on Yongseung’s back while the other steadied Yongseung’s arm. The sudden warmth was almost searing, and Minchan had to adjust his grip on Yongseung’s arm as Yongseung jolted in surprise.

One way or another, though, they painted the thing onto the wall together and stood back to admire their work.

Minchan cleared his throat importantly. “Very robust rendering of male genitalia despite beginner’s technique and a reliance on the studio master’s direction.”

“Six out of ten stars,” Yongseung agreed in his best art critic voice. The way his heart was pounding in his chest had to be from how proud he was of himself. “While Mister Kim’s work is not at par with masters Bae and Hong, it would be no stretch to add him to the Huam-dong Police Department’s watch list.”

Minchan laughed into the air. Then he mimicked the scratchy sound of a police scanner. “Really, Officer Kim, you should be seein’ the kinds of things the youngins paint nowadays.”

“Ah, Officer Hong, would be a shame to let ‘em keep their artistic freedom,” Yongseung shot back. He gestured at the rest of the wall. Hoyoung and Minchan may have been degenerates, but only the kind that painted, “Question Your Governments,” and did murals that made people think about everyone they’d left behind.

And _that_ was how Minchan ended up painting, “Fuck the police” in deep blue letters next to Yongseung’s own piece of art. 

“Though this isn’t an original idea, I guess,” Minchan said, dissatisfied. Yongseung grinned, despite himself, as under the words, Minchan scrawled out “—Jo Gyehyeon.”

Now Minchan reached for a new can, laughing, only to stop short. “Hey, are you okay?”

Yongseung’s staring contest with the wall must have been a little too intense for a little too long, because the next thing he knew he was trying not to drop the blue spray can that Minchan had just tossed him.

“You can keep going if you want, man,” said Minchan gently, almost as if he knew what it was like to lose to that wall.

Could he keep going, though? Should he? Yongseung wondered. Against better judgment, the answer was yes. Maybe because Yongseung was actually petty and childish beneath a put-together exterior, or maybe because the blood rushing in his ears was finally drowning out all the things he was trying to forget, Yongseung moved to one of the last clean sections of the wall and aimed his spray can vindictively at the tile.

@ yeo hwanwoong: boo :(

It wasn’t as rude or even as melancholy as Yongseung had been expecting to get out there. But it was comforting, somehow, seeing his feelings out of his body and staring back at him from a wall.

“You had that party you were going to tonight,” Minchan said, by way of a prompt.

“I was there.” Yongseung finally felt his grip relax on the can. “Saw him dancing with someone else.”

_It was alright to enjoy him while you could_ , Yongseung told himself now, _Your mistake was assuming it was reciprocal._

And that was weird of Yongseung, if anyone thought about it hard enough. Since when did he go by that little evidence? This was all just a painful reminder that the notorious Yong-bot was actually still human, and victim to how emotions like to drop kick analyses in the face of a fat, hopeful crush.

It was _embarrassing_.

Now, from a little ways behind him, Minchan just said, “That’s rough, buddy.”

Yongseung choked. “That’s all you have for me?!”

Minchan spread his arms wide. “Again, if I had the emotional capacity of a Romantic artist, I would be painting like one, Yongseung. I’m sorry that I could just feel the pout coming off of you in like, waves, tonight.”

Yongseung felt what was left of his pride evaporate. “I’m going to change this. It’s going to say, ‘@ hong minchan: booooooooo.’”

“Hnnnng, you know I’m trying really hard,” Minchan said, and he wasn’t wrong. “But if I knew how to knock someone out of their brooding, maybe I would’ve tried it on myself a long time ago.”

Yongseung shrugged, helpless. Still, it wasn’t lost on him how Minchan was more _tactile_ , how his touch lingered on the back of his hand when he collected the spray can from him. His eyes, too, had taken on a different cast under his hood, and Yongseung was just about ready to spray paint his own face in shame.

Minchan himself said he wasn’t one to be comforting people, but Yongseung had come to find _him_ , anyway. Not Hoyoung, who would have wrapped Yongseung up like a burrito. Not Dongheon, who would have rounded up muscle friends like Wyatt and constituted a threat to Hwanwoong’s life. Even Yeonho would have had _food_ and _tea_ and more sympathy than the church for Yongseung, but somehow, Yongseung’s feet had led him to the shady underpass he knew Minchan would be painting at that time of night.

“For the record, you’re just fine brooding,” said Yongseung. “You don’t have to try so hard to knock yourself out of it, I mean.”

Minchan paused with a hand in his jacket. When he remembered how to move again, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, likely the design of his and Hoyoung’s next mural. “I should still try. I do it too often. You— you’re entitled to a few hundred thousand brooding sessions, though.”

Yongseung chuckled despite himself. “Noted, thanks.”

Minchan made a Noise of Moving On, then sighed, short and heavy. “I’m sorry, though. Do you wanna talk smack about him while I work?”

Yongseung felt his eyebrows raise. Minchan must have really been in a good mood, because the offer sounded sincere. Yongseung had only really envisioned them brooding together tonight.

Still: "You don't have to listen," Yongseung tried.

Minchan shook his head. "I'm always listening. Now shoot."

"There's not much about it to say, though…"

"Then tell me the biggest thing about it," said Minchan, beginning to paint.

The biggest thing about it. Yongseung couldn’t completely figure out why, but— “It didn't work out, and I'm a little relieved."

The aerosol hiss of Minchan's can cut off abruptly. "Were you scared?”

"No. Maybe relieved isn't the right word." Yongseung toed the concrete with a sneaker. There was something not quite right about Yongseung’s feelings about this in general, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. "I'm still a little upset it didn't work out. It's more like… I'm not as cut up as I thought I'd be. I thought I liked him a lot, but I'm burying it all rather quickly."

Minchan gave a new can a couple of shakes. "Hate to break it to you, buddy, but seeing them with someone else generally speeds up the process."

"I suppose it does," said Yongseung.

“You… weren’t that into him, were you?”

“Did you know?”

“I’d hoped.” Minchan paused, backtracked; Yongseung felt himself rapidly doing the same. “I mean, it didn’t seem like either of you were going to be serious about it, and that just, you know that doesn’t always… end… well?”

“I suspected it wouldn’t. After I saw him at the party, I thought so fast that it would be much better to be out here with you, anyway.”

Yongseung was leaned against the wall opposite Minchan now, listening for the telltale crunch of tires on road before that turned into the blare of a police siren. It wouldn't be long before they had to get going.

"I'm sorry about him," Minchan said eventually. "I'm sorry _for_ him." Then, lower, "It's his loss."

This time, Yongseung really couldn’t help the snort that came down his nose.

"I'm trying to pay you a compliment here, Kim Yongseung," said Minchan. "And you have the gall to act to like you don't find yourself _a catch_? Jail. Jail for a thousand years, Yongseung!"

"I know I'm attractive," Yongseung laughed, one end of his smile coming up higher than the other. "Just never thought you'd acknowledge it too, hyung."

"Boo. In your time of need I put our rivalry as two handsome guys aside." Minchan squatted, rooting around in his backpack for another color. "'sides, though. When did Hwanwoong ever take the time to really get to know you outside the studio? He was missing out even before tonight."

Yongseung felt his heart freeze in his chest. All he could manage was a feeble, "Really?"

Minchan tsked. He was either high on the spray paint, or honestly unaware he was about to kick Yongseung’s brain into overdrive. "Yes, really. Like, you're the best dancer I know, but you're also a really cool dude. You're smart and independent and charismatic, and it's like, why _wouldn't_ anyone date you, y'know?"

"'In this essay, I will…'"

"Oh? With what information? No long list of ex-lovers to tell us you might be insane."

"I'll conduct a survey, then. 'Would you date me? Why or why not?'"

Minchan opened his mouth, presumably to answer the question himself, but what came out instead was, " _Shit!_ "

Yongseung whirled to the telltale crackle of a police radio. He felt all the blood rush out him as he took in the familiar blue uniform, the familiar stance, and most of all, the familiar _distaste_ in the officer's eyes.

" _Any word on those vandals, Officer Lee? Over_."

Minchan was hurriedly, quietly trying to pack everything up while Dongheon stared them down. Dongheon shifted his gaze to Yongseung, like, _him I expected this from—not you._

"There's new paint on these walls, but nobody's here," said Dongheon into his radio, still glaring pointedly at Yongseung and Minchan. "Might have to get creative with the patrol here, or see if we can put in some CCTV. Over."

Meanwhile, Minchan and Yongseung were having a very heated conversation with their facial expressions.

_I thought you were keeping watch!_ said Minchan.

Yongseung flared his nose and flicked his eyes over to Dongheon. _This is_ hyung _we're talking about._

" _Copy that, Officer. Thanks for heading out there. Over._ "

Minchan had just about finished packing up. As he slung his bag over a shoulder, he grasped Youngseung's hand and tugged, pulling him away from the scene of the crime.

Oh, okay, thought Yongseung, Minchan's hand warm in his. We're not even going to stick around for him to express his disappointment in us.

Yongseung winced. We'll just get the full earful at home, then.

He and Minchan sped out of the tunnel, careening into the set of stairs that led up to the sidewalk above. As they left, they heard Dongheon's voice echo behind them: "'Fuck the police?!' Seriously, you two?!”

Yongseung couldn’t help his breathless laughter then, and neither could Minchan. Mask off, he grinned at Yongseung over his shoulder, handsome and mischievous and reckless.

_That_ finally cleared all the noise out of Yongseung’s head.

And they didn’t stop, not until the next 7/11 was too bright and too cool to resist.

“What were your plans for the rest of the night?” Minchan huffed, as they ducked into the store.

The air-conditioning blasted Yongseung as he entered. “Nothing now,” he answered coolly. “Bed at 3 am.”

“Perfect.” Minchan picked out a snack, nonplussed, not privy to the vast silence now occupying Yongseung’s brain. “Pencil me in ‘til then?”

In response, around his absent thought processes, Yongseung still managed to pull two coffee drinks off the shelf and wave them at his hyung. “It’s a date.”

_That’s why the thing with Hwanwoong-hyung was more confusing that it should have been, huh, Yongseung?_

Minchan had smiled at him and Yongseung had felt his thoughts black out. Now, it felt like he was going in and slowly, surely, replacing old lightbulbs with Broadway incandescents. Who else would Yongseung ever play lookout for? The past-midnight, draping-a-blanket-over-Chan-hyung-passed-out-on-the-couch kind of tenderness wasn’t something he shared with everyone. Neither was tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths, stealing polos and hoodies out of each other’s closets… And neither was catching Minchan looking away right as Yongseung turned to him, or wondering if he’d let his eyes stray to Minchan too often, too long, whenever they were at the gym together.

_Would you date me? Why or why not?_

Yongseung knew it wasn’t possible, but his heart felt stopped in his chest. What had Minchan been about to say?

“Yongseung!” Minchan squeaked. He was holding his phone out in front of him like it was about to explode. “Yongseeuuung!”

The caller ID read, “ _Officer Hyungnim <3”_

_“The jig is up, the noose is out, they’ve finally found me,”_ Yongseung breathed, and slid to answer before Minchan could do something unwise like decline the call.

“I just got this _feeling_ that neither you nor Chan were headed home,” Dongheon said.

“Like the Spider Sense?” said Minchan, the same time Yongseung said, “How’d you know it was me who picked up?”

Dongheon gave a non-committal _tsk_. “Where are you now?”

“Shooting up a bank—”

“Repenting,” Yongseung cut in. “We ran really far away. It was like a pilgrimage.”

“So long as you’re not doing anything that could get me _fired_ ,” said Dongheon, and _ah_ , there it was.

Minchan, though, was firm when he leaned in to talk. “Hyung, you know we’re not doing anything wrong—”

“And when did that ever matter in the law, Chan?” Yongseung could tell immediately that Dongheon hadn’t meant to be so curt; his tired sigh came through as a rush of static. “I might need a new job. But you guys _definitely_ need a new hobby.”

Then the equally tired wail of siren started up in the background, followed by a soft curse from Dongheon, and the call cut off altogether. Yongseung and Minchan just stared at the phone between them for a while, unsure of what to make of that.

_Nbd just work. Buy soap for th wall u’ll b cleaning tmr_ , Dongheon’s next text read. And he followed up with, _Go home!!!!!!!!!_

Minchan took his phone back. “I can’t believe I have this kind of hyung. One who actually makes me think about cutting him slack sometimes, even when he’s like this.”

_Take care hyung,_ Yongseung saw him send back, and the lack of a concrete _Okay, will do,_ for Dongheon’s instructions was only _a little_ glaring.

“Shall we?”

“Homeward, then.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Minchan, “You heard hyung. Soap.”

Yonseung only raised his eyebrows. Minchan knew as well as he did that it was past midnight.

“Yongseungie, come on,” Minchan whined, “I feel _really_ good tonight, and you… could use some fresh air?”

That made Yongseung think twice. In the role reversal of the century, Minchan _was_ in a _great_ mood, while Yongseung was pretending he didn’t just supremely enjoy defacing a wall.

“Please?” The whiny edge had left Minchan’s voice now. His plead was soft and low. “Give us two hours.”

_To do what?_ crossed Yongseung’s mind.

Instead, he said, “Alright. But I don’t want to spend it finding soap.”

And the wide, wide grin Minchan flashed him then was much brighter than any of the proverbial Broadway bulbs that Yongseung had just used to shine a light on things. Yongseung followed Minchan like a magnet as he set off towards the bus stop while he declared, “We’ll borrow a power sprayer from the garage tomorrow. It’ll be way better that way, anyway.”

But as they boarded the bus, Yongseung seemed to remember he was in the middle of _thinking_.

“So is there a reason?” Yongseung asked, once they were hopping off the bus to begin the up-and-up trek that Yongseung knew so well. “For you being in such a good mood I mean.”

“There can’t just be times I feel okay?” said Minchan, and the way he smiled and shrugged instantly confirmed Yongseung’s suspicions: he was hiding something.

What Yongseung had realized between the convenience store and the second bus stop, really, was that Minchan hadn’t been in a good mood when Yongseung had found him. He’d only really come into a good mood when Yongseung had told him it hadn’t worked out with Hwanwoong.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Minchan looked alarmed. “I just… did?”

“I mean back in the tunnel. _Would you date me?_ I’m still conducting research.”

“And you’re still in an awful mood.” Minchan clutched their convenience store bag close to his chest and shuddered. “Here, stew over this.”

All Yongseung could really do was accept the pea snack from him. He wasn’t at all prepared when Minchan said, “Absolutely yes, though.”

Yongseung veritably exploded the snack bag. He’d been in the middle of opening it when Minchan had dropped the bomb on him. Minchan jolted and tripped at the sound, and before Yongseung knew it, Minchan was on the ground, victim to his traitorous long limbs and gravity once more.

“I can take it back if you need me to,” Minchan groaned from the pavement.

“Don’t.” Yongseung tugged on one of Minchan’s arms, and slung it over his shoulder once Minchan had managed to stand. “Stay with me, hyung, we’re almost there. Don’t go into the light.”

They’d reached the rise with the benches now. It was nothing really but a small hill in a residential area, not frequented because it didn’t really overlook anything. Still, it saw Yongseung whenever he needed somewhere extra quiet to do his homework, and Minchan whenever he needed to emote like one of his anime boys.

As they ditched the benches altogether and settled on grass, Yongseung also couldn’t help remembering the one time the hill had seen Kangmin, who had almost rolled back down the slope. _I wish I could turn my brain off the way Kangmin does sometimes._

Because louder, louder than the fact that Yeo Hwanwoong hadn’t been that into him was the fact that Hong Minchan had come into Yongseung’s mind in the split second after Yongseung had gotten kind-of-dumped. Yeo Hwanwoong was having the best time on the dance floor with someone else and Yongseung was thinking of Minchan, and how he would’ve much rather wanted to be with him, anyway.

“Am I still allowed to ask questions?”

“You asked one just now, and no divine power’s struck you down you yet.”

“What’s your beef with Hwanwoong-hyung?”

Instead of answering, Minchan opened his coffee can with a satisfying hiss and took a long, noisy sip. Yongseung didn’t quite catch what he said after—something about Hwanwoong ceasing and desisting, and then, “Why do you assume I have beef with him?”

Yongseung told him. He felt a little bad afterwards, because the coffee looked like it’d gone sour in Minchan’s mouth.

“We’ll get there, Yongseungie,” Minchan said, and Yongseung knew him well enough to understand that he’d have to rely on information Minchan _volunteered_ for the rest of the night. Still, Minchan took one look at him and heaved an incredulous kind of sigh. “You’re really going full throttle on this research, huh?”

Yongseung shrugged. He stuffed his mouth with food, mostly to stop himself from saying, _Hyung, admit it, we both feel like we’ve been waiting a little too long for this._

Minchan stretched then, like a cat, and in peak feline also decided to melt to the grass and roll over so his head was on Yongseung’s lap. Unbidden Yongseung’s hand carded through Minchan’s fringe, brushing the hair back from his forehead and letting the soft locks play against his fingers.

“Don’t you need time to get over Hwanwoong first? Aren’t you just grilling me for validation because I’m the nearest person around? I’m not anybody’s rebound, you know.”

Minchan’s words were a low drawl, the edges soft with sleep while the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet.

Yongseung could only chuckle. “Like I would do that to you.”

Minchan smiled and closed his eyes.

“And it was you who said, ‘Seeing them with someone else generally speeds up the process.’”

“And don’t we both know it,” Minchan said, almost too soft for Youngseung to hear.

Yongseung tried not to let his hand falter in Minchan’s hair at that, but Minchan caught his pause. He took Yongseung’s hand in his own and laced their fingers, and let their hands settle on his chest.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“And what is that?”

“Pencil me in again for tomorrow… And…”

“Hmm?”

Minchan cracked open an eye, then, and his expression soured. “You little shit.”

Yongseung couldn’t help laughing. Minchan turned away from him and even moved to gather up his things, that is, until Yongseung grabbed him by the hand and held.

“I’m sorry,” said Yongseung. “Hyung, you’re adorable.”

“Adorable my ass,” said Minchan. “Let me go.”

Yongseung shook his head. “I mean it. Hyung, I’m sorry I was beating around the bush, I’m sorry I was smiling stupid, I just, kind of caught on, and—”

Minchan now looked downright venomous. “Well, I’m sorry I’ve been obvious. I’m sorry I’m almost overjoyed that it didn’t work out with Hwanwoong, Yongseung; like, that guy literally didn’t know the first thing about you. Never took you to be this cruel, though.”

“I’m not being cruel, hyung,” said Yongseung, shaking the arm he had a hold on. “Hyung, look here. Please.”

Minchan barely did. Even then, it was dark and serious under his brows. That was when Yongseung leaned in and planted a chaste, gentle kiss on Minchan’s cheek.

“You weren’t being obvious. I kind of just got it now,” said Yongseung, breathless. “And, really, I fully intended to kiss someone tonight, and I should’ve realized a long time ago that it should’ve been you.”

Minchan blinked at him, one hand on the spot of Yongseung’s kiss.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Yongseung said, “I’m sorry I looked another way.”

Minchan didn’t even bother with a verbal response. He reached out to cup Yongseung’s cheek, leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the lips. The sensation was warm and electric and _right_ all at the same time, and Yongseung felt himself chasing Minchan’s mouth as he pulled away, felt Minchan coming back in as Yongseung tugged at his jacket and tilted his head to do it again.

“Sorry,” Minchan said in a small voice when they broke apart minutes later, “We can take this slower.”

“Slow’s all I’ve ever been with this,” said Yongseung, against Minchan’s jaw, “But if you want to, hyung…”

“I don’t,” Minchan conceded, which Yongseung had already guessed he’d do with the way his hand had found purchase on his thigh.

What felt like only seconds later, though, they were sprawled on the grass again, trying to let the cooler night air wash over them before they had to walk home through the situation in their pants. Still, their fingers were intertwined, and Yongseung filed under “really wonderful things” the feeling of being able to rub circles into the back of Minchan’s hand with his thumb.

“Do you think Dongheon-hyung’s done being mad yet?” Yongseung asked.

Minchan rolled so he was holding himself over Yongseung again. Yongseung laughed; Minchan was wide-eyed and incensed. “ _Why_ would you bring him up when we’re like this?”

“Because,” said Yongseung, trying hard for nonchalance, “I would’ve liked to continue this in your room.”

“Ah.” Then just like that, Minchan was standing again, shrugging on his discarded jacket and trying to stuff their remaining snacks into his backpack. He reached a hand out to help Yongseung up. “It is getting kind of late. Don’t you feel like going home anyway, Yongseungie?”

Yongseung grinned and took his hand. “We don’t have any soap.”

“I—look, in the words of men much wiser than I am, Yongseung?” Minchan smiled at him over his shoulder once more. “Fuck the police.”

* * *

Epilogue

From _hwanwoong-hyung_ : Hey, Yongseungie, does ur friend gyehyeon have beef with me? :( I saw he left that ‘fuck the police’ in the underpass by the creek and it looks like he also wrote ‘@ yeo hwanwoong: boo’? Was it something I did?


End file.
